


cherry blossom latte

by pinkfen



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Banter, Confessions, Crossdressing, Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, Fanboy AU, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Foreplay, Getting Together, Jealousy, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, Meet-Cute, Sexual Tension, Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:07:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28012923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkfen/pseuds/pinkfen
Summary: Jaemin relents and closes the empty box, advancing towards the camera as he licks his fingers clean. Jeno breathes a pained sigh, eyes riveted on him.”Come on," Jaemin says fondly, beckoning him forward with a seductive finger as he settles down before the computer. "Let me help finish you off, honey."(Jaemin flies from America to Seoul to attend an NCT Dream concert, and meets a fellow fanboy named Jeno.)
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Donghyuck | Haechan, Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin
Comments: 5
Kudos: 137





	cherry blossom latte

**Author's Note:**

> this is gotchick! :) i created another account bc i wanted to rework a couple of my other got7 fics for nct but didn’t want to clog up my ao3 with reworks as i felt that would be nagl lol. as mentioned, this fic is a rework of my 2016 got7 fic titled ‘baby you’re a boat’ which can be found on my main account. as with most reworks, even after editing all i could the best i could, there are going to be areas where you’ll be able to tell the fic wasn’t written for these characters, but i hope you have a little fun reading this as a fanfic in its own right :)
> 
> to prove this is indeed me, i will link this ao3 in my profile on gotchick… later on when im not so lazy lmao. i’ll also mention this account in my next work posted there. my new works will all still be posted there and this account is only going to be an archive for whatever else i decide to rework. this is my only other account and i did not and will not post my nct fics anywhere else, so if you ever happen to see copies on any other website or whatever, please inform me ty
> 
> this fic is basically just super cute fluffy almost crack so i really hope you enjoy if you give it a shot. two day6 members were mentioned in the fic and i honestly had no idea who to replace them with so i left them as they are, its only a small part tho so probably won’t be too jarring lmao
> 
> eta - oh yeah i forgot to tag but this is top jeno haha,, ik some readers care abt that

It's seven in the morning, Korean time, when the taxicab drops Jaemin off at the concert venue, jet-lagged and grim and grimy from the long-haul overnight flight from the US. He's dragging his unwieldy suitcase, having come straight from the airport without even time to drop by the hotel to check-in, but his chest is puffed with smug and confident triumph.

Till he sees the queue of straggling but determined-looking teenage girls already camped out in front of the barriers, a lone banner proclaiming “Chenji Bar” waving in the faint morning breeze.

Jesus, these girls were intense.

The exhaustion and time difference seems to hit him all at once. The day NCT Dream announced their first official full concert in Seoul, he had begged his parents to loan him money, and promptly booked the most expensive front-row VIP seats so he could have the clearest possible view of Renjun... he meant, all five members. He wasn't usually a spendthrift, and definitely not some rich spoilt kid, but his motto had always been _go big or go home_. After all, if he was going to splurge on the air ticket to Seoul, it would be foolish to scrimp on the concert ticket and end up with a seat from which he couldn't enjoy himself.

However, there were still some things money couldn't buy. He was dismayed to find out that the hi-touch and group photo, which all VIP ticket holders were entitled to, was on a first-come-first-serve basis. This naturally placed him at a disadvantage compared to the fans who lived in Seoul. He could see his dreams of standing next to Renjun during the photo-taking, and leaning over to take a whiff of his scent, or even getting away unnoticed with subtly brushing his hand; going down the drain. Maybe Renjun would even have slung a friendly arm around his shoulder, since he was a fanboy and they were more likely to let down their guard around him.

Okay, maybe he's being overdramatic, but he has to be realistic. Even though he had booked an earlier flight to Seoul, hoping to beat the other fans, now with a quick count he estimates there are at least ten fangirls already in the queue before him. There's no way he's going to get to stand beside Renjun, or even Mark.

Deep in his disappointed ruminations, he doesn't notice the fangirl creeping, her head down and shoulders hunched into herself as if trying to be invisible, towards the end of the queue. Towards _his_ place.

”Hey!" Jaemin shouts, the outraged squawk slipping from his mouth on sheer instinct. He's only a few steps away, still clutching the handle of his luggage, but it's far enough that the girl will be able to get ahead of him.

Thankfully, the girl stops in her tracks and looks up, turning towards the direction of his voice in confusion. She looks pale and nervous, as if she's doing something sketchy and is afraid someone she knows will recognize her.

Jaemin doesn't waste any more time, grabbing his suitcase roughly and hurrying towards the spot-stealing girl.

”I caught you!" he huffs, panting loudly when he's in front of her, waving an accusing finger. He's usually much more gentlemanly and chivalrous towards girls, but not after a disappointment like this and when his ticket to NCT Dream's concert is at stake.

The girl whips her head up, looking stunned. The hoodie falls from her forehead, revealing long dark wavy hair falling over her shoulders in twin ponytails. She hurriedly pulls it back on again, ducking her face, but not quickly enough to hide the blotches of red blooming on her tanned cheeks.

"Huh?" Her voice is surprisingly husky and deeper than Jaemin expected, so low he has to lean forward to hear.

Something about her painful shyness, the obvious discomfort in her posture and the attention from the other gathered fans they have drawn with their commotion, makes the anger in Jaemin melt away. He relaxes the tension in his body and sighs unwillingly, but his voice is softened when he mutters, "Never mind," and gestures for her to go ahead of him in the queue.

The girl doesn't budge, her blush deepening from the little Jaemin can see of her jaw beneath the hoodie. She bows to him timidly, as if unwilling to accept his gallantry and waiting for him to go first, but now Jaemin is set on being behind her.

"Quickly," he urges, finding the words with difficulty in his rusty Korean. He had started brushing up on his Korean seriously, signing up for cram classes a few months after he got into NCT, but since he seldom had an occasion to practice back home he still doesn't know how to speak it fluidly. "Before someone else comes."

As if on cue, they hear footsteps approaching behind at a fast clip, growing louder. Jaemin doesn't even turn before he acts -- this rhythm and speed can belong to none other than a rabid fan, like himself.

Before the girl can react, Jaemin has grabbed her hand boldly and tugged her forward into motion, rushing towards the end of the queue.

They bump into each other as Jaemin stops abruptly, and the girl's hood falls for the second time.

But this time, her hair falls off too.

Jaemin gawks in horror and shock till he realises that it's not her hair that is sitting askew and sliding off her scalp -- it's a wig. For a moment, he had been worried she was a patient with a disease that had caused her head to bald -- she looked the part with her paleness and skinny, lanky figure and clammy palm -- and he had felt guilt-stricken for manhandling her so roughly.

But then he realises something even more astonishing -- she isn't a girl.

She -- _he’s_ a boy.

Jaemin makes another outraged and ridiculous sounding choked noise in his throat, eyes moving in swift disbelief down the boy's body which looks so obviously masculine now that he can't imagine how he could ever have mistook him for a female. He blames the jet-lag. He should have known something was up when this "girl" was taller than him.

The boy freezes, swivelling away from him in guilt about his deception and seeming torn between running away from Jaemin's narrowed gaze or remaining in the queue which has lengthened by a few people who are chattering behind them. The other fans are so excited and hyped up with adrenaline, even in the early morning, that no one noticed anything amiss since the boy quickly and discreetly adjusted the wig on his head and raised the hood again, looking less awkward and shy below its cover. Of course, it has nothing to do with what a convincing girl the boy makes, easily the prettiest among the cluster of gathered fans, even without a stitch of makeup. Jaemin doesn't think it's weird that he noticed; it's not like he's blind.

He's about to demand righteously and nosily why the boy, who looks about his age, is cross-dressing, but on the way out of his mouth, the words die on his tongue. He almost bites it when he realises how insensitive he had come close to being. Even though this isn't a girl, he still has to have the basic courtesy of treating a stranger. A very attractive stranger. With completely clinical observation, Jaemin judges that this boy is easily as attractive as any of the NCT Dream members. He definitely has a significantly more masculine appearance and aura than Renjun and Mark which even the wig can't disguise, a quiet yet compelling charisma.

Apparently, he's a man of few words too, Jaemin thinks as he sighs again and stops himself from his line of further questioning. He lays his suitcase down on its side on the concrete ground, then sinks down to sit on it. The boy seems to know his cover has been blown, and surprised Jaemin hadn't called him out on it in front of all the other girls.

A few more minutes pass in stilted silence after the boy sinks down on his haunches too, sitting down tentatively with his legs crossed. Jaemin takes out his phone and buries himself in it, trying to keep his eyes from straying up to study the back of the boy's hooded head with a curious frown.

But even with his naturally sociable nature, he's determined not to say a single word and respect the boy's right for privacy. Not only because his Korean is atrocious, but also because it's the boy's own business if he wanted to cross-dress and it would be mean and tactless for Jaemin to expose his gender in front of all these other people.

But in the end, he's surprised when the one who can't keep his eyes from wandering, who turns back a few times to sneak a curious glance at Jaemin, is the boy. When Jaemin catches him staring, he promptly whirls back to face the front, the set of his shoulders tenser than before.

After the shock wears off, Jaemin starts feeling comforted and less alone at finding a fellow fanboy by coincidence in the queue. He feels lucky to be next in line to this boy now. This is the first NCT Dream concert he has ever attended, even though they came to his country for a fanmeeting before. At that time he had felt pretty embarrassed and conspicuous to be the only boy in attendance. The silver lining in the cloud was that his standing out had made all the members notice him.

He stifles a giddy giggle as he wonders if Renjun will remember Jaemin today from the few words and smiles they had exchanged at that fanmeet. They probably have so few fanboys that it's easy for them to remember all of them. At times like this, Jaemin is grateful for his differences from the other fans.

But today... it seems he has some competition, Jaemin thinks, eyes finding the boy in front of him again. Strangely, though, he feels less threatened than warm, as if he has found a friend in this foreign land.

Half an hour has passed in boredom when the boy turns around again, peering at Jaemin from beneath the hem of his hood. His eyes are keen, inquisitive, and his shyness seems to have ebbed away.

He studies Jaemin for a few moments, their eyes catching together as Jaemin gazes back at him quietly, taking in the beauty mark by his eye, his creamy cocoa-coloured complexion and the silent questions in his dark eyes flickering over Jaemin's face. Even though they haven't exchanged more than two words, he can somehow tell that this guy is a good person.

He shifts on his suitcase awkwardly, this time the first to break the intense eye-contact. He clears his throat, expecting the boy to turn back to the front again. He is taken aback when he hears a deep voice, pitched low so that no one else will hear but louder than the first word he had spoken when they met.

"Hello."

The boy sounds as tentative as he looks when Jaemin raises a startled head. He blushes again, but continues in a friendlier voice in Korean, "I'm Jeno."

Jaemin gapes, opening and closing his mouth a few times without words before he stammers a reply in halting Korean. "I'm Jaemin."

Instinctively, he reaches out a hand, and the boy's eyes widen but he takes it after a beat. His palm is less sweaty than the last time now, wrapping gently and politely around Jaemin's.

They let go after a few awkward seconds, but Jeno smiles hesitantly and asks, "Where are you from?"

Jaemin smiles back, thankful for his amicable question. “America.”

Jeno looks impressed. "Your Korean is really good," he compliments with surprising glibness, and Jaemin blushes this time.

"Thank you."

"Sorry for... taking your place just now," Jeno murmurs. "I didn't see you. And thanks... for not saying anything about..." He gestures towards his hair.

Jaemin quickly shakes his head. "It's no big deal! I'm sorry for being so rude earlier."

"You weren't rude." Jeno sounds warm. "You must've gotten a shock."

"Not at all! You're really pretty," Jaemin blurts out earnestly at Jeno's lowered head. "Even prettier than Renjun and Mark when they cross-dress."

At his brash and impulsive words, Jeno looks up sharply, eyes wide. Embarrassment stains his cheekbones. He looks taken aback, blown away by Jaemin's unexpected compliment.

He coughs. "Thank... you?" Hesitates, before adding, "I was really embarrassed to come here disguised as a girl. But I figured it would be less attention-grabbing than the last time..." His voice softens and he grimaces at a personal recollection.

Jaemin feels a jab of sympathy, the feeling of brotherhood with this new friend deepening. "You were the only boy?" he guesses, and sees his answer in the way Jeno's face lights up with relief.

"You too?"

Jaemin nods and groans at the memory. "But honestly, I never thought of the idea of cross-dressing. And even if I did, I don't think I would be brave enough. I've never cross-dressed in my life."

Jeno's ears pinken. "It's my first time too," he admits softly. "But..." his frank eyes move up to survey Jaemin assessingly in a way that makes Jaemin's breath catch. "You would make a pretty girl," Jeno pronounces, sounding decisive.

"Uh... thanks?" Jaemin doesn't know whether it's a compliment, but takes it as one because he likes the way it sounds. Although he's never been called pretty in his life. Handsome, plenty of times, but pretty no.

Pretty has always been the word he would use to describe Mark and Renjun. It was one of the reasons he had fallen head over heels for them, besides NCT Dream's honestly dope music and the similarities he shared with Mark, with their English background. He had been bowled over by how attractive they were and the sheer charisma and stage presence they both possessed, that it was hard not to admire them even as a guy.

A few online friends he met on the internet had asked him with interest if he was gay, but Jaemin didn't like to label himself. He had never been attracted to guys romantically before he became a fanboy, and had a few girlfriends so far. But there's just something about the five boys, especially Renjun, that makes him so crazy about them.

He wonders what Jeno's story is, how long he has been an Nctzen and how he got into them. And obviously, the most important question -- who his bias is.

Jaemin has him pegged for a Renjun stan. When he asks, Jeno's eyes get lost in his huge smile for the first time as he nods with shy pride.

"Renjun is my inspiration," he says with awe thick in his voice. Jaemin is resisting the urge to childishly high-five him, screaming "Me too!!!" when Jeno continues, frowning, "But since Kick It era, Mark is being so rude..."

He rolls his eyes, and it takes Jaemin a minute to realise that Jeno just cracked his first joke. He bursts out laughing, absurdly pleased that Jeno has grown comfortable enough to reveal his snarky side.

"I know, right?" he exclaims emphatically, shaking his head. "He is so disrespectful, ugh..." They promptly launch into an extended list of complaints against Mark's effortless flawlessness and ridiculous perfection, their voices rising in excitement even as they try to keep them down. A few girls nearby shoot Jeno curious looks, seeming to realise he might not be a girl. For some reason, Jaemin feels a brief spike of jealousy at the thought of them approaching and probably, definitely being bowled over by Jeno's good looks. Jeno might be drawn away into their group, especially since Jaemin's Korean isn't as fluent and he isn't as interesting a conversation partner.

He's not going to lose the first and only friend he made so far in Korea. So with deliberation, he talks and laughs louder, loud enough to drown out Jeno's low voice. Luckily his hoodie is still pulled up over his hair and he's sitting cross-legged facing Jaemin, huddled together so his face isn't very visible to the others.

After their conversation about bias-list wreckers and how they are the ultimate bane of one's existence, they debate the typical question that is a rite of passage for every Seasonie -- how does one simply choose a bias?

But they are both delighted to realise that they ship the same OTP -- duh, Renhyuck is real -- and Jeno snorts so hard the sip of water he just took from the bottles a few staff who had arrived to control the queue had started passing out, almost comes out of his nose. He starts coughing. Jaemin looks around, startled when he notices the sun is high in the sky and it's almost midday, his stomach grumbling in hunger.

"Did you pack any lunch?" Jeno eyes Jaemin's luggage and small carry-on messenger bag. Jaemin sheepishly shakes his head. His mother loaded him with a few snacks before departure, but he had finished most of them on the plane.

Now, Jeno laughs and shakes his head too when Jaemin tips his chin at Jeno's compact backpack and asks, "How about you?"

Jeno mock-groans. "I didn't think of it. I just packed a lot of useless stuff like hairspray and fan merchandise and my photobooks and mini-fans and my letters and gifts for them." He looks embarrassed, and Jaemin resists the urge to comment that the members will probably be as charmed by Jeno as Jaemin is, that whether he gives them letters and gifts or not will be secondary.

"Should I run to a fast-food joint nearby and get us lunch?" Jeno suggests, looking concerned. "One of us needs to stay here to reserve our places in line, and I should probably go since I know my way around better."

"You'd buy food for me?" Jaemin gasps in pleasant surprise. "Gosh, thanks bro!” The familiarity slips out automatically, since they had exchanged ages earlier and found out they were born in the same year.

Jeno looks flattered and pleased at the term of address too.

"Sure," he replies. "I'll be back in a few, so wait for me." Without further ado, he gets to his feet nimbly and sprints away, disappearing into the distant building.

Jaemin gazes after him open-mouthed, with a foolish grin still hanging on his face, before he remembers that he hadn't passed Jeno money to buy the food.

He proceeds to fret for the next fifteen minutes until he sees Jeno's figure reappearing, walking briskly instead of running so his hood won't slide off his head again, one hand sheepishly anchored on the top of his scalp in an action only Jaemin knows is to keep his wig from slipping. From a distance, if one didn't look too hard, he could easily pass as a girl, mostly because of his good-looking face.

Jeno is flushed and breathless when he arrives back at their spot, and sits down again spread-legged next to Jaemin. No matter how many times Jaemin tries to push a few bills of wadded-up Korean currency into his hand, Jeno refuses to take it like he's trying to show Jaemin up in gentlemanliness. He keeps telling Jaemin that it's customary in Korea to treat new friends to meals. Finally, Jaemin gives up the battle of egos in defeat and Jeno looks quietly triumphant.

The queue has lengthened considerably, snaking in a haphazard fashion down the sidewalk, everyone besides them female and very feminine. The fangirls are all high-pitched squeals, revealing clothing and thick make-up, and as the sun climbs higher in the sky the cloyingly sweet aroma of perfume mingled with perspiration hangs in a cloud over them. Jaemin takes a relieved sip of his drink, the ice-cold liquid flowing down his parched throat.

It's some kind of citron soda, and delicious. Jeno smiles as he slurps the entire cup up in a few gulps.

"You can have mine too," he pushes his tall cup towards Jaemin.

"Aren't you thirsty?" Jaemin hesitates, then turns to unzip his bag and root around in it as he remembers something. He withdraws the bottle of mineral water that had come with his meal in the plane and offers it shyly to Jeno in exchange.

It's lukewarm and half-drunk, Jaemin apologises to Jeno, but Jeno doesn't seem to mind as his smile widens and he takes it from Jaemin's hand with a murmur of thanks, tilting it to his lips to drain it, prominent Adam's apple bobbing.

After scarfing down their lunch -- Jaemin thinks with amusement that the most telling thing about Jeno is probably that he eats like a boy, wolfing and shoveling his food down ravenously without grace or embarrassment, like Jaemin -- they continue their paused conversation without missing a beat.

The theme is still how does one pick an OTP in Dream and Jeno gets heated as he waxes lyrical about Markhyuck’s beautiful hyung-dongsaeng bond as well as how underrated Markle is and obviously, how shippable Jisung is with everybody in a way that is more convincing and profound than most of the fanfictions Jaemin has read.

"Do you write fanfics by any chance?" he ventures, a wild guess, but the way Jeno's face blanches makes him crow. "Holy shit, you do!"

"I've only written a few, in Korean!" Jeno hurriedly clarifies. "So I'm pretty sure you haven't read them." He looks annoyingly smug that Jaemin will never be able to read his fics, and Jaemin pouts petulantly.

"Do you?” Jeno shoots the question back, changing the subject smoothly. Jaemin shakes his head glumly, subdued for once, but Jeno continues earnestly, "I heard there are so many good English fanfics; I wish I could read them."

He looks so wistful that Jaemin has no idea why he blurts out, "Do you want me to read one to you?"

He feels, for an instant, like Cather in Rainbow Rowell's Fangirl (a book which is a guilty pleasure he will never admit on the record to reading) reading to Levi -- but it's absurd, of course, because Jeno is very literate and probably smarter than Jaemin (although he didn't brag, Jaemin can just tell by how articulately he expresses himself and expounds on his thoughts) -- though in some ways, Jeno does have the sexy high forehead, tall dark mysterious lazy charm and hooded dreamy gaze thing going on as he listens to Jaemin read out one of his favourite English Renhyuck fanfics with rapt attention.

A short one, so he won't get hoarse. And something fluffy, not smutty because that will be beyond awkward and embarrassing, reading gay smut out loud to another guy, in public. This current situation he finds himself in is something Jaemin definitely did not see coming when he got off the plane at Incheon Airport this morning.

Still, he finds himself enjoying Jeno's immediate and expressive reactions, highly amused by his laughs and muffled chortles as Jaemin reads the funny and cracky parts and the way his eyes grow serious at the angsty, emotional ones, glazing over with the slightest sheen of moisture. Jeno is so much more open and full of warmth than he had looked at first glance to Jaemin, and Jaemin is intrigued.

It's his first time translating a fanfic in real time and reading it aloud at the same time, so it's a little tricky especially since his Korean isn't that good but Jeno is patient, never pressing him to go faster even when he reaches the climax or takes a few moments to ponder how to express an English idiom or metaphor in Korean.

After about an hour (four times the span it took for him to read the fic himself), he finally reads the final line, pronouncing the last word with a flourish. He feels extraordinarily proud, as if he had written the fic himself, and much more confident about his Korean skills. He had no idea he had the ability to translate an entire short story from English to Korean until Jeno had encouraged him to try. Perhaps this is a viable career option in future, Jaemin thinks, the possibilities racing in his head.

Jeno seems to agree, breaking into his dazed reverie with a loud and unabashed clapping. Jaemin blinks back to reality to see Jeno's mouth hanging open, looking impressed and so full of awe that Jaemin blushes.

"Wow," Jeno breathes. "That was really something else."

The honest admiration in his voice tells Jaemin he isn't exaggerating or flattering, and he feels a swell of warmth glow in his chest.

"Well, I didn't write it..." he clarifies self-deprecatingly, but Jeno replies, "I wasn't talking about the quality of the fic! It was good, but I've read many other equally good fics. I was praising your translation and reading skills."

"Reading skills?" Jaemin echoes, and Jeno smiles, eyes gleaming as he leans forward in excitement.

"Yes!" he nods vigorously. "Hasn't anyone ever told you you have a wonderful speaking voice? I don't know, it was just so nice to listen to..." He trails off dreamily, as if reminiscing.

Jaemin heats up blotchily. He has always enjoyed singing, but no one ever told him that they liked listening to him speak before. Most of the time, his friends would more likely chide him teasingly in jest to stop running on like a motormouth because he could never stay quiet for more than a few minutes before he was off and babbling again.

"Do you really like hearing my voice?" he asks, lowering his eyes to the ground, but not before he sees Jeno's face grow abashed and his head jerk down in a nod.

"Thank you for reading my first English fanfic to me," Jeno murmurs, so softly Jaemin has to lean forward to catch it. "I'll never forget it.”

Sometime along the way when he hadn't noticed, the crowd outside the concert venue had thickened and ballooned, as more and more people rapidly joined the queue till there were too many to count. The afternoon sun is pretty sweltering, especially after a long day without shade (some of the more intense fans had pitched tents to camp out in, but Jeno only had a small umbrella they propped beside them to shield them from the heat), but Jaemin can't help feeling a surge of camaraderie in his heart for these loyal fans of the same boyband he is smitten with, all speaking a different language from him but sharing the same love and adoration for their five beautiful idols.

Most of all, in less than half a day, Jeno has already taught him the meaning of the Korean word hyung. Before he arrived in Korea, Jaemin knew of the word but had never known of the exact meaning, the physical feeling of having an actual hyung. He has many friends of the same age or older in the states, but can safely say that none of them have ever taken care of him so protectively and gently the manner Jeno has in the short time since they met each other. He doesn't know how to express how grateful he is that from the time they exchanged ages and Jeno found out he was mere months older, he had immediately adopted a caring and warm attitude towards Jaemin, his eyes wordlessly but indulgently calling Jaemin his dongsaeng.

Someone has switched on a portable stereo system and started playing NCT Dream's entire discography, from Chewing Gum all the way to their latest, biggest hit. Many fans are singing along, swaying emotionally from side to side and raising their lightsticks in the air, adding more fan spirit to the whole atmosphere. More than a few girls have gotten weepy and started tearing up, blubbering and being comforted by their friends, but since Jaemin is a boy he doesn't have that luxury. He tries his best to blink his eyes so they will stop stinging, and swallows over the lump in his throat.

When he looks over at Jeno, his throat is working too, eyes pink-rimmed, as if he is doing the exact same thing.

Ten minutes later, Jaemin discovers that Jeno knows the lyrics of both the Korean and Japanese versions of most of the discography by heart.

They must be soulmates.

Some of the other fans fall asleep when the late afternoon drowsy heat wave rolls over them, but Jaemin doesn't feel a single urge to let his eyes drift closed, because how could he miss a precious minute of talking and laughing with Jeno, swapping stories about their lives and histories as if they are old friends? Although he shouldn't be, Jeno feels so familiar and unfamiliar to him at the same time that it makes Jaemin's skin tingle.

He discovers Jeno is in his second year of university, a film arts major minoring in sociology, and that his favourite groups besides NCT are EXO and GOT7. Although Mark and Renjun have openly admitted to being fanboys of the saccharine sweet girl group GFriend and are even rumoured to have a stage in this very upcoming concert covering them, Jaemin and Jeno high-five for the tenth time that day after they discover that both their favourite girl group is the edgy and sexy-cute StayC. Jeno mumble-sings a few verses of So Bad, sounding so glorious Jaemin almost weeps.

It’s seven in the evening, a whopping twelve hours after they first met when a cry that rises and sweeps over the entire congregation like wildfire alerts them to the fact that the entrance doors to the concert hall have been thrown open. A staggering number of fans have turned up to support the boys' first extended concert in Korea, just the start of a mind-boggling number of stops throughout the world. This international concert is going to be a phenomenon that goes down in history, and Jaemin is so indescribably proud to be here, right in the middle experiencing it personally on the very first day, together with the five boys he has loved for exhilarating and eventful years now from their debut to breakout through every comeback, as they take baby steps into the next phase of their fame.

He struggles to his feet, feeling rejuvenated and powered up despite the exhaustion dragging down his limbs, and promptly stumbles unsteadily because his legs had fallen asleep a few hours earlier.

Luckily, he feels a firm and strong chest behind his back, Jeno's arms wrapping reassuringly around his shoulders as he catches Jaemin before he falls.

"Take it easy. I got you," Jeno says quietly in his deep voice, and his smiling eyes glimmer at Jaemin in the moonlight.

Jaemin flushes at the sensation of Jeno's statuesque, muscled frame up close against his, thankful for the cover of darkness. He shifts away carefully, regaining his balance and bends to pick up his luggage but Jeno grabs the handle of his suitcase without warning and starts dragging it behind him, walking ahead without waiting for Jaemin.

"Hey!" Jaemin pants breathlessly at his heels, catching up. "What are you doing?"

Jeno turns with a smile. "We're both in the VIP section, right? Don't you want to sit next to me?" He looks slightly nervous, eyes darting down in the dim in a way that goes straight to Jaemin's heart.

"Of course!" he blurts out. "Who else would I sit next to?"

Jeno melts into a relieved smile that transforms his face breathtakingly. "Then let's hurry so we can get good positions for the photo session later," he replies, picking up his pace.

Jaemin beams giddily and obediently hurries after him in the thronging crowd of overexcited fans, but is surprised to realise that sometime during the day, it had become less important whether he was the first in line or could get the best place in the group photo. He feels less competition and rivalry with the other fans, in fact feeling glad and relieved he hadn't gotten an earlier place in line because if so, he wouldn't have met Jeno. Everything had turned out perfectly in the end.

When they find their seats, Jeno gallantly taking the one right beside the aisle so Jaemin won't have to be jostled by other people, Jaemin gasps. The front-row view is completely unobstructed, divine. Sinking down onto the plush luxurious cushion of the chair, he thinks with contented bliss that this was totally worth the wait, especially since the wait itself had been so unimaginably enjoyable. He can't imagine what he would have done today had he not met Jeno. Definitely, he would be feeling much more lonely and less happy now.

As the fans in the other sections filter in, the buzz of excitement constant and building up, a filler video starts playing on the screen -- Mark, Renjun, Haechan, Jisung and Chenle's faces blown up in high-definition, larger than life against a background of blood orange flames. Along with the other fangirls, Jaemin starts screaming like a deranged cow whose ovaries have combusted until Jeno whispers into his ear that Mark's beastly expression looks a little like he's constipated and he starts screaming with laughter instead.

Looking at the hordes of preteen fangirls around him, their shrieks of "Oppa!" ringing in his eardrums, Jaemin feels for a fleeting instant too old for this, this toeing-the-edge-of-being-tacky nonsensical video screaming the members' names and the way he suddenly realises, like a bucket of ice water emptied over his head, that what on earth has he just done did he seriously fly all the way across oceans to a completely foreign country just to attend this concert he is in way, way too deep to be sane -- and in the midst of all the pandemonium, he starts silently having a tiny mental breakdown.

But then, all of a sudden, he hears a bellowing noise from his left, a bizarre guttural noise that sounds like something a beached whale would make, and he spins around in shock to see it emitting from Jeno's mouth.

The sight is so disorienting that he misses the grand and anticipated appearance of the members rising onto the stage from a hole at the bottom, too busy bending over to clutch at the stitch in his stomach as he makes out what Jeno is wailing: "Oh my god, Lee Haechan looks so much more fine in real life!!!"

It only takes this to jolt Jaemin back into his zone, back into the fevered fanboy who pleaded and whined till his parents gave in and let him fly across Asia to attend the concert of a boyband they had long suspected was making him question his sexuality, because he was their beloved son; back to the manic and determined fan who was so set on getting the best seats that he had arrived twelve whole hours earlier to start queuing; back to the nondescript, plebeian commoner whose life had been totally and utterly transformed simply because of the fact that he had spent every free minute he had in the last two years memorizing the lyrics to NCT Dream songs, watching every single video and interview and reality and variety show on Youtube he could find, and purchasing overpriced fan merch and USBs and photocards.

That, and the ocean that suddenly spreads as far as the eye can see, as the lights of the place are flicked off simultaneously and all the fans' lightsticks are suddenly visible, glowing in the dark like beacons. The feeling of exhilaration is almost tangible, building up to a fever pitch as hypnotic stage lights play over the five members, now throwing them into shadow and then silhouetting their princely profiles, teasing and baiting the fans with their deep resonant voices.

Because although sometimes (most of the time, actually) it may seem crazy and juvenile, this overgrown fanboy is none other than him, Jaemin Na, and he has to own it. He wants to own it like Jeno, unashamed and fiercely proud, wearing his wig like a badge of honour and doing whatever he has to do to blend in attending the concert and keeping a low profile. Jeno is so surprisingly brave despite his reserved exterior, has been taking Jaemin's breath away with his unexpected courage ever since seven that morning when he had taken the initiative to strike up a conversation with Jaemin, making the first move. And since then, he had taken care of Jaemin so carefully that Jaemin felt inordinately at home in this country where it was his first day here.

He has received so much from every one of these five boys, so Jaemin realises that he musn’t be afraid to show that he is giving back everything he has in return. That he would go to any expense, leap through hoops of fire just to see NCT Dream in the flesh and show his support to them. Even though he is merely one of many, this group has always been more special than the rest, seeming so personal and intimate and down-to-earth like his very own friends that he never felt any distance or the distinction between idol and fan.

There are no words he could possibly find to describe the experience of hearing Dream sing and dance live -- Renjun's heartbreaking, dulcet voice; Mark's soul-shaking bass; Haechan's impassioned and pitch-perfect vocals; Jisung's energetic and effortless sultry rap; Chenle's bad-boy crooning and his angelic falsetto -- so Jaemin won't even try.

He isn't good in weaving pretty words, favouring more crass and less romantic ways of expressing his emotions. Such as screaming himself hoarse, into oblivion; so loudly that tears ooze out from the corners of his eyes and his throat aches with the welcome raw edge of pain that grounds him to tenuous reality and tells him that this is real; he is here, beside Jeno with Jeno's arm having crept around his shoulders sometime when they hadn't noticed and both of them jumping up and down in sync to the beat.

By the end of the concert, their voices (and bodies) are so wrecked that they are reduced to making a pathetic bleating noise that sounds like whimpering newborn lambs. But they don't regret a single minute of it.

Jeno produces a box of lozenges from his magical all-containing backpack and offers a few to Jaemin, himself popping them religiously as if they will miraculously restore their voices by the time it's their turn to high-five the members.

Mercifully, enough of their voices return for them to croak in a barely comprehensible tone. Jaemin notices with more than a little jealousy that while he sounds dreadful, Jeno amazingly sounds sexier with this new husky and hoarse voice.

"You sound absolutely fine, actually you sound really --" Jeno is midway through reassuring him when a deep voice sounds out from behind Jaemin.

"Hi."

Jaemin isn't even exaggerating, he feels his eyes grow to the size of saucers as he pivots around slowly, filled with consternation and disbelief, to see Mark Lee in the flesh, looking just slightly shorter than Jaemin (he knew it! their profile heights were true!) and very amused.

"It's rare to meet male fans," he says in a disarming drawl, eyebrows raising appreciatively as he offers up his steady and masculine palm for a high-five. His skin looks unblemished and probably feels as deliciously soft and smooth. Jaemin trips over himself to high five Mark like a dork.

From beside him, Renjun bows a sweet and touchingly polite goodbye to the fan before them, and turns his attention to Jaemin.

"I remember you!" he pipes up in excitement, almost knocking his chair over in his haste to get up. "From the US fanmeet, right?"

Haechan reaches up to jokingly restrain him, patting his shoulder to settle him back in his seat and Jaemin and Jeno exchange loaded looks, mouthing _Renhyuck is real_ to each other. A series of camera flashes and screams blind and deafen them in agreement.

Jaemin is having so much fun, he doesn't even remember to swoon and pass out over how fantastic Renjun looks in real life, impossibly gorgeous and godly like an angel on earth.

But then he vaguely and belatedly registers what Mark just said -- male _fans_? Plural? The last time he checked, Jeno was still wearing his wig…

Jaemin whirls around, doing a double take, not caring that he is wasting his precious interaction time with Renjun and Mark spending more than half of it staring at Jeno instead -- to see with horror that Jeno has taken off his wig for the first time that day.

And if Jeno as a girl had been striking enough that Jaemin would have put his moves on her if he had passed her on the street, then Jeno as a guy...

"Holy shit," Jaemin swears under his breath at the almost unrecognizable boy standing before him, no longer sweet-faced and pleasant-looking but now a total hunk of beastliness with his jet-black hair spiked with drying sweat in adorably disheveled tufts, matted bangs falling into dark dark eyes.

Jeno blinks at his muttered oath, looking confused, as Mark exclaims, "Hey, what's your name?"

"Jaemin," Jaemin replies on autopilot, forcing his dazed gaze back to a flushed Mark, who is leaning forward with genuine interest. "I was wondering this from the previous fanmeet... but can you by any chance speak both Korean and English too?"

All Jaemin can do is nod, feeling Jeno's silent presence from behind him, the heat of his body as Mark breaks into a delighted smile that far outshines any of those he has seen in the countless videos he's watched.

"That is so awesome," Mark is gushing, sounding far more chatty than the image Jaemin had of him. "We're like, spirit animals."

Jaemin sees Jeno's eyebrows shoot up from the corner of his eye, and senses what he's thinking -- that Mark is being uncharacteristically friendly because Jaemin is a fanboy and therefore, harmless.

Still, it obviously feels heavenly to be the focus of Mark Lee’s attention. It's like a spotlight beamed directly on him, so bright is Mark's physical presence.

Before Jaemin can add to his pathetically paltry contribution to the conversation so far, maybe use a few more English words, as well as pass Mark the gift he had prepared, Jeno is elbowing him out of the way so he shoves off balances and lands in front of Renjun.

Mark follows him with his eyes, looking confused but Jeno promptly crowds forward towards the table, leaning in with a singlemindedness that takes up Mark's field of vision.

Renjun is gaping at them looking bemused, but he immediately picks up where Mark left off with his trademark skill at working the crowd. Jaemin can't see what Mark and Jeno are doing or hear what they're saying as Renjun starts chattering with him like they're old friends.

"I was so shocked you flew to Korea to support us. Have you been doing well since the last fanmeeting?" he asks in sexily accented English, eyes trained sweetly on Jaemin and smile curious and concerned, and this finally snaps Jaemin attention back to him.

It's equally dizzying, conversing one-to-one with Renjun -- something that he has dreamed of so many times, it seems unreal now that it's actually coming true. He manages to slip both Renjun and Mark's gifts to him (promptly whisked away by their manager hyung) but later on, for some reason, Jaemin can hardly remember what they talked about for those few minutes before Jeno finally moved on from Mark and he had to move to Jisung because they were holding up the line. Luckily, now Jeno has taken off his wig the other fangirls don't look too resentful or jealous of them monopolizing the boys' attention, seeing them as no threat.

But although Jisung is his third favourite member after Renjun and Mark, Jaemin finds mysteriously that again, he can't concentrate on their exchange, because his attention is drawn towards the low conversation Jeno and Renjun are having next to him, in their own world. They are both talking in rapidfire Korean, too slurred for Jaemin to decipher and he realises with a pang that all day Jeno had purposely been talking in very slow and concise Korean so Jaemin could understand, that it wasn't his usual style of speech.

Now, he feels ridiculously bitter and left out as Renjun giggles at something Jeno says, adorable eyes crinkling into half-moons as he unleashes his patented eye-smile on Jeno and Jeno just about melts into a puddle of goo.

To be accurate, he actually just laughs his charming laugh in a totally unaffected and cool way, but that's even worse because now it makes Renjun's eyes widen and sparkle with an intrigued gleam Jaemin doesn't like.

Before he knows what he's doing, he's abandoned Jisung midway through his awkward monologue and moved quickly towards Jeno, snatching the wig out of his hands hidden behind his back.

As Renjun watches with open-mouthed bewilderment, Jaemin plunks the wig back onto Jeno's head in the most unflattering position he can muster, interrupting the slow seductive spread of Jeno's own eye-smile across his devastatingly handsome face.

An awkward silence falls for a few excruciating heartbeats.

... Before the girls after them are pushing forward from behind, eager to meet Mark, and Renjun is looking at Jaemin with laughing eyes and a knowing glint in his smile that makes the pit of Jaemin's stomach drop.

He swallows hard and tears his eyes away, returning his attention to poor Jisung who looks absolutely crushed at being overlooked for the first time since the start of the fanmeet, and thus promptly redoubles his efforts to charm Jaemin's pants off.

The high carries them all through the whirlwind chats and well-wishes with the rest of the members, then out of the venue from the swirling horde of people into the night growing steadily quieter and quieter as Jeno walks Jaemin to the taxi stand.

They can't stop gushing and marvelling over how friendly and nice and -- human -- all five of the members are in real life, how utterly without any superstar airs or pretensions. It's unbelievable, surreal. Jaemin can't believe that such specimens of humanity exist, and know of his existence.

He finds himself praying that a taxi will not arrive for a long time, his heart speeding up every time he sees car headlights sweeping across the asphalt but only slowing when they don't stop on the relatively tranquil road.

He doesn't want to leave Jeno. Not just yet.

But when Jeno asks him gently where he is headed and if he has a place to sleep for the night, brow creased in concern, Jaemin's heart flips and he whimpers something about heading back to his hotel to crash before his morning flight the next day.

It must be a trick of the moonlight and his imagination, but Jaemin thinks for a nanosecond that a flicker of crushed disappointment chases across Jeno's inscrutable face at the news of him going home.

"Well... I guess that's your cue, then," Jeno says with a wry smile as a taxi pulls up, looking like Jaemin's worst nightmare. He feels a lump rise in his throat, on the verge of tears.

Jeno gazes steadily at him, as if commiting his features to memory.

"Bon voyage," he says softly. "I... had a lot of fun today, Jaemin-ah."

It's the first time Jeno has called his name. Jaemin doesn't know whether it's his name that sounds so tender and gentle in the Korean language, or just the way Jeno says it.

"Me too," he sputters unattractively. "I'm really glad I met you, Jen.”

Then the driver is popping the trunk and Jeno picks up his heavy luggage effortlessly, heaving it in. The trunk shuts with a slam that rings with finality and Jeno stands over him, looming quietly as Jaemin helplessly ducks to fold himself into the open backseat.

Neither of them say anything as Jeno closes the door and the taxi drives away.

Jaemin turns his phone over and over in his sweaty palm after a restless, sleep-deprived night as the last passengers board the plane and the stewardesses start prepping for takeoff, passing out blankets and hot towels and headphones. He can see the landscape of Korea outside the window, and surprisingly instead of feeling happy to be returning home he already misses it.

It's five minutes before the intercom fizzes to life and booms, "This is your Captain speaking. Our flight will be departing shortly. Please switch off all electronic devices and fasten your seatbelts," when Jaemin's phone vibrates in his slippery hands.

He opens the message shaking, heart roaring in his ears.

It's from the number he had saved as Lee Jeno, and attached is the selca they had taken with Jeno's phone at two-thirty on the day of the concert. Jaemin had forgotten to ask Jeno to forward it to him, but he was relieved they had taken one with his own phone as well.

Now, he sees that he was wrong. Because Jeno's selca is completely, heartstoppingly different from his. While they were both looking at the camera in his, the selca attached to Jeno's message shows only Jaemin gazing at the camera with a laidback grin on his face, the kind of grin he only manages when he's with someone he really likes and is genuinely having fun -- while Jeno is gazing at him without a hint of a smile on his face, instead looking stricken and lost and helpless. As if he is gazing at something so hopelessly beautiful and precious that he knows with utter devastation and certainty he is going to lose.

Jaemin's heart is a thundering bass drum in his chest, because he was so wrong when he assumed Jeno's personality and face was wooden and inexpressive.

Jeno wasn't inexpressive in any way, at all. It was just that he was being purposely guarded, careful and wary not to show Jaemin his true emotions.

Confirming his thoughts, the message reads: _Jaemin-ah, I debated for a long time whether to send this to you, but eventually decided to. I hope I’m not making a mistake I’ll regret forever, but somehow I think I’ll regret more if I don’t let you know how I feel._

 _If… maybe… you feel the same way, or even if you just want to be friends, I would be so happy if this wasn’t the end for us, even if we live in different countries. I would be so grateful if we could still talk, sometimes, online. Just so I’ll know if you’re safe, fine, happy and healthy even though we’re far apart_.

Below is a list of Jeno's social media accounts, his Facebook and email and Twitter and Kakaotalk and LINE and Instagram and even his cell phone number, as if he wants to provide Jaemin as many ways to stay in contact with him as possible.

The message is short and simple, but the emotion in it is crystal clear. Just like Jeno himself, how he never dresses up but just slays everybody effortlessly with his inborn treasury of charm. Jaemin feels an unidentifiable emotion blossoming in his chest as he fanatically reads and rereads the message with a dedication that has only been inspired by NCT Dream so far.

Jaemin is so thankful he made the trip all this way, despite it initially seeming like something that wasn't worth the trouble. Because if he hadn't ventured out of his homeland, he wouldn't have met Jeno. He wouldn't have had the opportunity to receive Jeno's kindness, to know that someone as unbelievably beautiful as Jeno existed in this world.

As the plane taxies and lifts off the runway, an epiphany dawns on Jaemin: that Jeno embodies everything he has gained from being a fanboy. And not just a fanboy, but a fanboy of Dream.

It's something that isn't superficial, immediately visible to the naked eye. It's indescribable, inexpressible in clumsy language. But for him, it was never just about adulation and worshipping idols. It was about something more profound -- the friendships he had forged, both online and offline, the miraculous and amazing way he had bonded time and again with people halfway around the world, oceans and time zones away from him simply through their shared and common love for these five inspiring boys. Mark, Renjun, Haechan, Jisung and Chenle had brought them together into a community that was so tightly-knit and united that it was as strong as a nation unto itself, in its own right. And this, Jaemin thinks, more than anything else, showed how much power these five seemingly unremarkable boys possessed and wielded, a power that could sway millions of hearts in every corner of the world.

He can't switch his phone on again until the plane lands, but Jaemin doesn't need to because Jeno's face is etched as clear as day in his mind's eye. It's true, Jaemin thinks, that life can change in just one day, by meeting just one person, if it's the right one. The way Jeno has altered his life irrevocably by walking into it, no disguises or mirrors or smokescreens -- just as himself, as he is.

Jeno isn't a celebrity or any of the idols Jaemin has chased after all his life. But even without a single sprinkling of stardust, a stitch of makeup or concealer or contouring or designer clothing and accessories, he's the brightest star Jaemin has ever seen.

-

You know that feeling when you just met someone, but feel like you've known them all your life?

That's how Jeno makes Jaemin feel. It's been two months since they met, and every new thing Jaemin discovers about Jeno only makes him plummet deeper. It's kind of amazing, because usually as one gets to know a person, they end up disappointing you or fall short of one's ideals. But for Jeno, it seems like the opposite. Every new quality Jaemin finds out about him makes him more right.

Maybe it's because they're communicating through a computer screen and not face-to-face, but Jaemin doesn't think that's it. They've been chatting every single day without fail since he followed Jeno on all the social media accounts he had the moment the plane touched down. Even though it was two in the morning for him, Jeno just as immediately followed back.

Right away, they continued where they left off at the concert without missing a beat. Jeno sounded just as witty and adorable and attractive online as he did offline, and even more humorous. He seemed to find teasing Jaemin immensely amusing, and even started flirting with him in a cocky way Jaemin wasn't sure he had seen at the concert.

It made his pants feel too tight.

Sometimes, because of time zones, it feels like Jeno is halfway around the world. Jaemin wishes he had touched Jeno more on the day of the concert, maybe even hugged him, just so he would have the memory of the texture and temperature of Jeno's skin now.

As it is, he can only rely on his (very fertile) imagination.

With every day that passes, they seem to talk for longer and longer hours, never getting bored of rambling to each other about the most mundane things and exchanging slightly flirtatious and teasing banter. Sometimes they get so wrapped up in each other they lose track of time, and when Jaemin looks at the clock he is surprised to see it's almost morning.

Initially, they spend their time mostly fanboying about NCT and crying about their inhuman perfection, but gradually they start segueing into discussions about their real life, their day at school and their families and friends. When Jaemin tells Jeno earnestly that he wants to know everything about him, there is a pause before Jeno replies with a bashful emoji: "Me too."

Both of them have a number of followers and online friends, but because they've already met in real life, they seem to skip over all the getting-to-know-each other parts right into being BFFs. Because everything Jeno says is retweet-worthy to Jaemin, his numerous retweets naturally lead one of his closest online friends, Jae, to become curious about Jeno and send him a follower request.

Seeing that Jaemin is following him, Jeno follows back and Jaemin is slightly jealous but mostly thrilled to see them getting along like a house on fire. Presently, he gets to know one of Jeno's friends, Wonpil too -- but this time he's the one who takes the initiative to follow him because Jeno retweets him a lot and Jaemin is curious and slightly envious. Naturally, the four of them get into an uproarious group conversation together and Jae and Wonpil promptly follow each other.

Because he finds himself thinking of Jeno more and more, even when Jeno is still in afternoon classes and hasn't logged onto his social media to reply Jaemin's messages, he finds himself doing some online sleuthing.

Namely, through Jeno's photo album on Facebook, his Instagram posts, and old tweets. Jaemin derives an inordinate amount of pleasure from this activity, finding a younger Jeno's past look and the things he talked about incredibly adorable. When he realises he's unconsciously scrolled as far back as Jeno's 2016 tweets, he starts feeling creepy.

But not enough to stop. Next, he finds his hand itching to read Jeno's infamous fanfics he had wondered so much about. In the past two months (owing a lot to Jeno's efficient tutelage) his command of Korean and especially Hangul has improved by leaps and bounds and now he is extremely proud of the fact that he can decipher enough to navigate Korean websites, albeit very slowly and clumsily.

He finds Jeno's account after much difficulty and trying all the variations of the usernames he knows (honestly, Jeno is so predictable). He isn't sure if it's Jeno at first, but after he reads a few fics he's pretty sure. Jeno is actually an impressively good writer, and Jaemin feels proud of his "bae”.

“Be serious," Jeno chides Jaemin for the nth time, and Jaemin giggles. He's still feeling giddy after a few days, the novelty not yet worn off. He can't believe they hadn't done this earlier, but he's so happy they started Skyping because seeing Jeno through a video call is a wholly different experience from messaging him online.

Neither of them had Skype accounts, but Jaemin suggested they sign up for one in the guise of wanting Jeno to start giving him official Korean lessons.

Previously, Jeno had been helping him with his Korean in a casual way, by telling Jaemin what certain phrases meant or typing the Hangul out for him to learn when he asked. But a few days ago, Jaemin announced that he had a new ambition: to become an English-Korean translator or teach in an English language school in Seoul.

"Does that mean you'll be moving here?" Jeno asked, and when Jaemin sent back a nodding emoticon in response Jeno's ecstatic reply of "OMG!!!!!!!" was instantaneous.

They've exchanged selfies a few times since the concert, but this is the first time they're video talking in real time and Jaemin doesn't know if it's the webcam effect but Jeno looks way, way more gorgeous than he remembered, even in his homewear of ratty tee and scruffy denim. His hair has grown longer in the last weeks and he keeps pushing his bangs impatiently out of his eyes (which are comically serious and intense as he lectures Jaemin) when they fall in. It's distracting as hell.

"Are you doing body-building?" Jaemin blurts out apropos to nothing, interrupting Jeno's ramble about adjectives and verbs.

"What?" Jeno looks up in confusion from his textbook, appearing flustered and slightly irked when he realises Jaemin hasn't been paying attention.

Jaemin blushes and backpedals. "Nothing," he mumbles. "It's just, I was wondering because your biceps look, um, thicker..."

Jeno's eyes widen at his words, and move down to look at his arms. He studies them curiously, rolling his sleeves up and flexing them slightly to see what Jaemin is talking about, and Jaemin nearly has an orgasm.

He chokes, falling off his chair. Jeno looks up at the clatter, leaning forward to peer into the screen. "Jaemin-ah, are you okay?"

Jaemin gets to his feet and rights the chair, face beet red.

Relievingly, Jeno doesn't seem to notice his heightened excitement. His own face looks more flushed too as he mutters, "Yeah, I've been lifting weights. You noticed?" He brightens slowly, a pleased grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

Jaemin curses and waves his hand. "Not really." He tries to look indifferent.

"Oh." Jeno sounds disappointed. He rolls his sleeves back down again, looking embarrassed, and Jaemin grips the edges of his chair tightly, nearly letting out a cry of anguish.

“Why would you lift weights?” he squeaks in a soprano pitch which scares himself. He hadn't known his voice could go that high.

Jeno shrugs, but his face is still red. "Didn't you tweet recently that you like Mark when he's buffer?"

Jaemin gapes. He didn't even know Jeno saw that tweet because he tweeted like a hundred times a day (sometimes till he got jailed) and Jeno hadn't replied to it or liked it.

"But that's Mark!" he starts, and winces at the way Jeno's face falls.

"So you don't like me buffer?" he mutters testily, and Jaemin hastens to appease him.

"Of course I do, hyung!" He's relieved to see Jeno crack a smile at the endearment.

"But don't get too buff," Jaemin warns. "I don't want any cute girls at your university noticing you." He plays it off as a joke, but it's actually been a secret preoccupation of his for some time.

Jeno laughs with genuine delight. "You know I don't have eyes for anyone but you," he drawls, eyelids falling to half-mast as he leans forward and his face fills the screen. It kind of takes Jaemin's breath away for a second. It's unfair how Jeno makes sexiness look so effortless, how he just does things to Jaemin's heart that he's pretty sure aren't healthy.

What can he say? Their relationship is still in its puppy crush phase, and he's just a horny twenty year old boy who reads way too many NC-17 gay fanfics.

To get back at Jeno, an hour later when the lesson is coming to an end and Jeno is finishing up his teacherly monologue, Jaemin murmurs in a sultry voice, "Jeno-yah.”

Jeno looks up, brow creased, and promptly freezes into a JPG image when he sees Jaemin lifting the hem of his shirt teasingly, flashing a glimpse of his taut stomach.

Jaemin leans forward in concern, wondering if the screen has frozen, when he hears a groan emitting from Jeno's mouth. His stomach drops, heat pooling at the pit when Jeno's tongue slips out of his mouth to lick his chapped lips.

"Jaemin," Jeno says in a low voice. "This is bad. This is really bad."

"What's the matter?" Jaemin asks innocently with part-amusement and part-concern, leaning closer to get a better look at his pale face.

But without warning, the call ends as Jeno's Skype window closes, leaving a pouting and cockblocked Jaemin with his sexual frustration.

He doesn't give up on his campaign to wear Jeno down, instead redoubling his efforts. There's nothing he's enjoyed more than a challenge, and Jeno's the biggest challenge Jaemin's faced.

Days later, he's working on an assignment Jeno has given him, nibbling on the end of his pen in concentration as he tries to translate the list of Hangul words Jeno had set for him. On his end, Jeno is silent as he patiently waits, but after minutes Jaemin gradually becomes aware of a noise like heavy breathing.

When he looks up, frowning, Jeno jumps visibly, a shiver rippling through his body.

“Babe,” Jaemin says, setting down his pencil slowly.

"W-what?" Jeno looks like he's sweating bullets, unable to meet Jaemin's eyes. His face is unnaturally flushed, eyes glazed over and unfocused.

"Show me your hands," Jaemin demands, pulse speeding up.

Jeno looks pained, his breathing still harsh and audible. Lamely, he raises his left hand to the screen.

"Where's your right?” Jaemin demands like a bossy girlfriend. He sees Jeno's Adam's apple bob up and down in a dry swallow.

"Oh my god. Is your hand in your pants?" Jaemin shrieks incredulously, the pencil falling from his hand. It rolls off the edge of the table into his lap and it suddenly feels like he could come from just that, he's so ready to ignite and implode into a thousand pieces at just one touch just by looking into Jeno's darkened, dilated pupils and knowing his hand is on his dick.

"Jaemin, I'm sorry --" Jeno pleads, sounding terrified as Jaemin scrambles to close the window so he can stand up and dash to the bathroom without Jeno seeing the tent of his crotch. "I've just been feeling so weird after that day --"

Jaemin curses as he cuts Jeno off at the most important part, almost slamming his fist onto the table in frustration. What had Jeno been about to say? Now, he would give an arm and a leg to hear the rest of his sentence.

As it is, all he can do is to rush to the bathroom, knocking over everything in the way, to furiously take a cold shower.

After that fateful afternoon, the secret is out. The awkwardness and sexual tension between them mounts, growing palpable and thick enough to cut with a knife as they continue Skyping each other every day.

Finally, as expected, Jaemin loses his cool first, the tension building like a tightly-strung rubber band into an outburst.

“We need to talk."

Jeno raises his head warily from his Korean textbook. "Talk about what?"

"Jeno," Jaemin says plaintively, catching his eyes. Jeno gazes into his eyes quietly, waiting for him to speak. He still seems on tenterhooks after that day, as though worried Jaemin will be angry with him for jerking off without his knowledge. "Please," Jaemin says now, his voice breaking under the strain without knowing how to go on.

"Are you mad at me?" Jeno finally asks in a small voice, sounding torn. He flinches when Jaemin nods. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have --"

"No," Jaemin cuts in, his voice husky. "I was angry because you didn't let me join in."

"J-join in?" Jeno whispers hoarsely. Jaemin leans closer and he backs away a little as if afraid.

But Jaemin nods vehemently. "Do you think you're the only one who's in agony?" he babbles, impassioned. "Don't you know how crazy you make me?"

"Jaemin..." Jeno says after a shocked beat, a pitch deeper. It makes Jaemin shudder with want.

"I have desires too. I have needs too," he rants on, unable to stop.

"But..." Jeno whimpers.

“Babe, I'm your boyfriend. It's okay to do whatever you want with me. _To_ me.”

"But... you're my dongsaeng..."

Jaemin can't help but let out an impatient and disgusted noise. "Jeno," he says, looking straight into Jeno's dark eyes. "I think you've forgotten, but I'm only four months younger than you."

Jeno swallows, holding his eyes for an instant before they flicker down to his lips, with hunger.

"What do you want?" Jaemin challenges daringly, letting his tongue slip out to run over his lips and wet them. He hears Jeno's sharp intake of breath through the speakers, ratcheted up to maximum volume.

"I want..." Jeno's voice is so deep, Jaemin trembles.

"Do you want me to take off my shirt?" Jaemin prompts, when Jeno seems too embarrassed or speechless to continue.

Jeno nods wordlessly, but his eyes flare wider, training on Jaemin's torso.

They grow round, unblinking as Jaemin grabs the hem of his shirt with both hands and slowly lifts it over his shoulders in a clumsy striptease. He hears Jeno make a strangled noise at the back of his throat as he tosses it to the side and faces the screen topless.

"Aren't you going to take yours off?" he prompts with entitlement, and is surprised but not unaroused when Jeno answers in a more authoritative tone of voice:

"No. Unzip your pants.”

Jeno rattles the first package Jaemin has ever sent him by airmail eagerly, listening for the sound it makes with intrigue. Jaemin warned him not to open it in front of his family and wait till they were videocalling, partially because it might raise awkward questions but also because he wanted to see Jeno's reaction.

But when he tears open the wrapping and uncovers the box, Jeno groans in mortification.

"What is it with you and cross-dressing?" he whines as he gingerly takes the set of girl's clothes out of the box -- a red and blue maid-costumelike pinafore complete with matching set of black knee-high stockings, white shoes and oversized hair ribbon.

Jaemin squeals. "Isn't it adorable?" he trills.

Jeno squints at him, narrowing his eyes. "Jaem," he deadpans. "Do you have a kink I should know about?"

"Uhh..." Jaemin averts his eyes, then puts on his best puppy-dog expression. "It was really expensive; I busted my life savings on it."

"Did you ask me if I agreed to wear it?" Jeno shrieks in indignation (one to talk after he's the one who gave Jaemin this fetish), but ten minutes later he's sitting awkwardly with his bare knees together, legs tucked demurely under him in front of the screen, clothed in the entire set.

Jaemin can't believe his eyes. He can't process, could never in his wildest imagination have dreamed how stunning Jeno would look, the glossy hair of his wig tumbling loosely over his shoulders, catlike eyes made smoky with a touch of mascara and sensual, thin lips popping with just a coat of cherry lip gloss. He looks so edible Jaemin wants to lean forward to lick his screen.

"What?!" Jeno yelps, and Jaemin immediately colours too.

"Did I say that out loud?"

Jeno glares at him, flustered. He looks so adorable, shifting uncomfortably in the short skirt so he won't flash a glimpse of his underwear, that Jaemin's heart tightens with a pang.

"You seem pretty turned on yourself," he retorts, flashing a bratty grin and relishing the feeling of having the upper hand for once. Because Jeno can never say no to him, it's easy for Jaemin to get him on his metaphorical knees, at his mercy.

"What are you talking about?!" Jeno sputters again, looking outraged and blushing more fiercely.

"Nothing," Jaemin drawls, enjoying the way Jeno is biting his lip in nervousness. "I just noticed you didn't throw away the wig," he points out innocently.

Jeno growls low in his throat, looking ready to murder Jaemin. "Can I change out of this now?" he barks.

Jaemin bursts out laughing. "Oh, baby," he says, heart racing at the way Jeno looks when he hears the pet-name, "I haven't even gotten started with you yet.”

”Hnnghh," Jaemin hears, or something that sounds like it, as he walks out of the bathroom in only a towel after his second cold shower of the day, rubbing his hair dry.

He spins towards the source of the noise, suddenly panic-stricken.

His heart drops to his stomach to see his Skype window still open, Jeno sitting there and staring into it like a creeper or a pervert watching him through the window with his eyes bulging like saucers.

"What the fuck?" Jaemin shrieks. "Didn't we hang up already?"

Jeno blinks, though he still looks post-coital in that way Jaemin has come to know he looks after a satisfying session of masturbation.

"Didn't you leave your webcam on on purpose?"

"Why would I do that?!" Jaemin nearly screams, wary of his parents hearing and knocking on his door but unable to stop freaking out.

"Oh." Jeno looks disappointed but guilty now, but Jaemin is too scandalized to care.

"Oh my god." He drops his face into his hands, desperately trying to remember what he did after he thought he had hung up the video call and before he entered the bathroom to bathe. Jeno hadn't even breathed a word or alerted him earlier to the fact that he could still see Jaemin, just sat there silently watching him. Jaemin feels so betrayed; he hadn't known Jeno could be so artful. "I feel so violated. My life is over."

"Don't be melodramatic," Jeno harrumphs, although he sounds mildly apologetic. "I thought you said I can do anything I want, since you're my boyfriend." He says the last word so shyly that Jaemin almost forgives him.

"Not watching me without my knowledge!" His soprano pitch comes out again, hysterically.

Jeno shrugs carelessly, as if Jaemin's life hasn't just been ruined and he can't face his boyfriend anymore.

"If it makes you feel better, I promise you didn't do anything embarrassing. In fact, I found everything you did really... erotic."

Jaemin's jaw is on the floor. He had no idea the word erotic sounded so... erotic in Korean. Or maybe it's just Jeno's low bass that makes every word he says sound risque.

"I'm logging out," he says flatly, and Jeno looks crushed.

"Okay."

"Don't do that," Jaemin snaps.

"Do what?"

"Make that stupid sad face."

"... Okay."

"Ugh. Fine. What do you want?"

Jeno brightens like a lightbulb, a sly glint entering his eye Jaemin decidedly does not like.

"Can you take off that towel?"

Jaemin shrieks for the countless time that day when he realises that in the hubbub, he's forgotten to put on his clothes and is still clothed in the skimpy towel, hanging low from his hips and slipping precariously down his pelvis.

After that day, somehow, they both start leaving their webcams on the entire day, not closing the Skype window. Jaemin finds that he doesn't mind Jeno watching him as long as he's aware of it and doesn't do anything stupid or embarrassing. It feels nice, like Jeno is in the room with him, casually making comments as he moves around his room, doing his homework and tidying his stuff and listening to music and surfing the net. Even when Jeno isn't around, Jaemin will never tell him but he sometimes enjoys peering into the room and drinking in the details of Jeno's neatly organized, minimalistic and stylish room, an extension of his personality.

Mostly they just stay in silence, but it feels less lonely, being able to glance at the laptop screen anytime to see Jeno's room and what he's doing. (Once, he nearly chokes on his spit to catch him doing push-ups, corded ropes of his upper-arm muscles glistening with sweat.)

They don't even switch it off when they go to sleep together, the computer screen a warm phosphorescent glow in the darkness of his room as Jaemin imagines he can hear Jeno's rhythmic breathing evening out as he drifts into slumber an ocean away, a time zone into the future.

Jeno bursts into his bedroom and onscreen one afternoon, looking pissed.

"What the hell were those selfies you spammed me with on Snapchat today?" he yells into the Skype window.

Jaemin walks over to his laptop slowly, suppressing laughter. "What's wrong, hyung?" he blinks innocently.

Jeno crashes down into the chair in front of his computer, breathing hard. He runs a frustrated hand through his hair.

"Do you know how hard you make it for me to concentrate in class?"

He shrugs off his backpack and tosses it to the side of his desk, groaning. Up close, Jaemin can see his faint dark-eye circles, similar to the ones on his own face because of the late nights they have been keeping to spend more time with each other. Jeno stays up with him without complaining of tiredness till he falls asleep every night. The tension between them has been running high as even the phone-sex sessions they have on Skype every day, dirty-talking each other to orgasm, have started feeling like not enough.

"I'm sorry," he says meekly, partially in penitence and partially cheeky. "I'll stop sending them."

There is a beat, before Jeno groans, dragging his hand through his tufted hair again. Jaemin bites his lip, wanting it on his body so badly.

"No, don't," he says in a muffled voice.

"What's that?"

"Don't stop," Jeno mutters submissively, the tables turned in an instant. Jaemin smirks with quiet satisfaction.

"You liked them, huh?"

"Why are you doing this to me?" Jeno complains bitterly, sounding like a petulant child. Jaemin resists the urge to coo at his pout.

"Payback for not telling me my webcam was still on," he counters sweetly, deliberately dragging his thumb over his lips and watching the way Jeno's eyes follow it.

He bites his thumb, looking up through his eyelashes at Jeno's eyes. They smoulder.

"Fuck my life," Jeno says darkly in English, and gets up to slam into the toilet for another of his bathroom breaks that have been growing more frequent lately.

Jaemin curses, closing his own window for a few minutes of privacy. He should never have taught Jeno that swear word, because Jeno sounds way too hot to be legal cussing in English.

On one of the rare occasions they're making an exorbitant long-distance video call with their phones, Jeno accidentally tilts his phone so Jaemin abruptly has a very clear view of his naked crotch.

"Holy fuck," he mutters under his breath, as Jeno makes a panicked screech and quickly rights the phone, his face looking like a boiling lobster when Jaemin sees it again.

"S-sorry," he stammers, unable to meet Jaemin's eyes. It's weird, but despite their almost daily webcam-sex sessions they've never actually... seen each other's dicks. At least not up close. Sometimes Jaemin would teasingly stand up to flash Jeno a blurry and baiting glimpse of his hand on his cock with his pants and underwear pulled down, to get him more aroused, but Jeno was more reticent and Jaemin had been hesitant to ask for some reason too.

Besides, Jeno's face when he comes and the noises he makes alone are erotic enough for Jaemin to come very fast, and even more than once, every single time.

It's only now that he realises what he has been missing.

"What?" Jeno asks, the frenzied up-and-down motion of his arm stilling and sounding defensive and vulnerable now that Jaemin has gotten a close-up of his cock, engorged and pink, even his fingers wrapped around it unable to affect the impact of the view.

"You're..." Jaemin starts in a hoarse whisper, and sees Jeno wince as if prepared for a cutting remark. "... really big."

A heavy silence falls, before Jaemin hears his own words and blushes furiously.

Jeno blinks at him, looking stunned. His face is the same scorching magenta shade as Jaemin's.

"Why do you sound surprised?" he eventually says, sounding slightly miffed.

Jaemin nearly laughs at how bruised his ego sounds, but disguises it as a cough and feigns an offhand shrug. "I just... didn't expect your dick to be so big because your hands are... smaller than mine.”

"WHAT?!" Jeno totally stops jerking off now, seeming to lose his mood as he leans so menacingly close to the screen that Jaemin backs away in alarm.

"What did you just say?" Jeno's voice is threatening in a way that makes Jaemin's cock jump in his own grip, his skin tingle nervously.

He tries to keep his calm, tossing his bangs out of his eyes to stare back at Jeno defiantly. "My hands are bigger than yours," he states.

"Bullshit," Jeno fires back like a whip. He seems inordinately fired up about this topic.

"The last time we held hands, my hands could wrap around yours," Jaemin counters righteously, but Jeno bristles with indignation.

"Your hands are pretty big, but mine are at least the same size."

"Fine, let's compare them when we meet," Jaemin sighs, relenting.

"Better yet, let's measure them now," Jeno challenges. Jaemin doesn't know where this sudden competitiveness came from.

In the end, the rest of their webcam session for the day is adjourned as they spend the rest of the hour childishly measuring the length of their palms from finger to wrist with rulers and debating whose are bigger.

(Jeno’s are, but Jaemin is as stubborn as a mule, refusing to concede defeat and admit it. Until Jeno makes him agree to show him his dick.)

”Unff," Jaemin hears a suspicious muffled noise as he scarfs down a box of fried chicken gracelessly in his fitted black wifebeater, legs splayed sloppily on his bed.

He pauses and looks up at the camera, leveling his eyes at Jeno through it.

"Seriously?" he deadpans in disbelief.

Jeno blinks unapologetically.

"It's all your fault," he grumbles miserably, hand not stopping its frantic strokes. "You've created a monster."

Jaemin burps, then cackles in glee. "How'd you like that?"

"I just came," Jeno replies drily.

Jaemin relents and closes the empty box, advancing towards the camera as he licks his fingers clean. Jeno breathes a pained sigh, eyes riveted on him.

"Come on," Jaemin says fondly, beckoning him forward with a seductive finger as he settles down before the computer. "Let me help finish you off, honey.”

For their second month anniversary, Jeno sends him a package. When Jaemin opens it, he's astonished to find a body pillow with a blown-up high-definition photo of Jeno's face tucked into the transparent pocket on the head, a greasy smile plastered on his face.

"You look like some creepy ahjussi perving on innocent wittle me," he complains snarkily to Jeno, but hugs it to sleep that night anyway and uploads a selfie with it on his Twitter the next day hashtagged nominisreal and realerthanrenhyuck and 2monthswithnomin.

 _so romantic!!!_ Wonpil immediately replies supportively, while Jae replies him, tongue-in-cheek, _you spelled disgusting and gross wrongly_.

Jaemin blocks him and logs onto Jeno's Twitter too (he changed his password a week earlier to xmrsnax after Jaemin promised to send him another dick selfie) and blocks him there too, despite Wonpil's weak attempts at mediation.

Dream in USA is three months after Dream in Seoul, and Jaemin asks Jeno with bated breath whether he can possibly come.

"Sorry, aegi-yah," Jeno says regretfully, his rare usage of the pet-name telling Jaemin how truly apologetic he feels. "I have school, and I doubt my parents will allow me to leave the country."

Jaemin can't help pouting, though he tries not to let Jeno see how eager he had been and how disappointed he really is. It had felt significant, special to him that they attend the US stop of the tour together, after meeting at the Seoul concert brought them together. But he tries to be an understanding boyfriend and just smiles brightly.

"It's okay, hon. I understand.”

On the day of the concert, he's picking his outfit, trying to keep his spirits up although it feels different, lackluster going on his own. He's arranged to meet and queue with Jae at the venue, but Jeno's absence and the distance between them feels especially conspicuous and gaping today.

He hears the doorbell ring distantly, but ignores it till his mother calls, “Jaeminie, your friend is here to visit you!"

Jaemin's heart leaps into his throat. It can't be... but Jae just texted him five minutes ago to confirm their meeting location and time.

He races down the staircase, taking the steps two at a time, skidding in his socked feet. He's still half-dressed in the matching concert tee they purchased together at Seoul concert, and jeans, hair unkempt and disheveled but he doesn't even have time to run a shaky hand through it.

When he throws the door open, his knees nearly give out to see Jeno standing outside, towering over him and looking like a daydream in his matching dorky NCT Dream tee.

"Surprise," Jeno smirks; and oh God, how could Jaemin have forgotten how traffic-stoppingly, dangerously sexy he was? He thinks he might need CPR as he stands there frozen and hyperventilating.

Then Jeno is stepping forward boldly into his personal space, longing and missing in his eyes, his arm sliding smoothly into the dip at the small of Jaemin's back, aligning into the contour of his body as Jaemin arches his back eagerly up to meet him as if it fits right there.

Jeno pulls Jaemin flush against him, eyes soft and dark, lips tugging up in a mischievous smile. And then they are kissing, their lips melting together.

Their first kiss, three months after they met.

It's every bit as amazing as Jaemin had imagined, and more.

“Okay, okay; wait a moment," Jaemin pants, pushing Jeno away slightly as they break apart and bracing his hands on his chest to keep his balance. Jeno is gazing at him with quiet adoration, eyes filled with laughter and happiness.

Jaemin cringes and ducks his head into his chest. He squirms, but Jeno doesn't let go.

"What am I going to tell my parents?" Jaemin frets. "'Yo Mom and Dad, sorry I didn't tell you but I've been dating a hot Korean boy and by the way he's right outside the door to meet you'?"

Jeno quirks an amused eyebrow, looking unruffled. "That works," he hums. His eyes flicker playfully down to Jaemin's lips again, and Jaemin swats him weakly. The full force of Jeno's charisma definitely did not translate through a computer screen.

“Mom, Dad, I have to tell you something," Jaemin says flatly as he plods into the living room. He sounds like he walked out of a cliche eighties teen movie.

His mother looks up, sighing in resignation.

"We already know, son," his father says gravely. "You're gay."

"How did you know?" Jaemin yelps. "And by the way, Ihaveaboyfriendtoo," he blurts in a rush.

"We know that too," his mother replies sympathetically.

Jaemin stares. "You do? Okay, well, his name is Jeno," he adds anticlimactically.

"Jeno?" his mother looks up, then turns towards his father in baffled confusion. "Was there a member in that Korean boy group named Jeno?”

After a lot of convoluted explanation and flustered introductions and awkward and polite bowing, Jeno is finally admitted into the house as Jaemin's mother bustles to prepare snacks with an acceptance that brings a lump to Jaemin's throat.

But he's too giddy to dwell on that now, standing beside Jeno on the threshold of his bedroom and seeing his childhood room through Jeno's eyes.

Jeno leans back on his heels, hands shoved suavely in his pockets as he gives Jaemin's room a once-over with his intense and observant eyes that miss nothing. He lingers on Jaemin's Star Wars action figures and laughs softly.

"You're so cute," he says, smoothly slipping his hand over Jaemin's and locking their fingers together. Despite the fact that the last time they conversed online was merely yesterday and Jaemin always has a lot -- too much -- to say, standing before Jeno in the flesh, he feels tongue-tied.

This stop of NCT Dream's first official solo concert tour is as phenomenal as their Seoul one. But curiously, what Jaemin remembers with much more clarity later than the frenzied blur of the experience is the hush of Jeno's hotel room after it ends, and they take a cab to the hotel Jeno is staying in for a night before he flies back to Seoul the next morning in terse silence. There's an electricity between their bodies almost visceral enough to feel, sizzling when their skin brushes by accident.

Jaemin's stomach is twisted in knots and his pulse hasn't stopped racing all night.

The moment Jeno lets them into his room and closes the door they're kissing again, hands scrabbling at each other's clothes as their noses bump and teeth knock and faces mash together. Jeno's tongue is shoved deep in his mouth, dragging across his and Jaemin hears himself groaning like an animal in heat.

Jeno grinds his pelvis against Jaemin's and backs him towards the bed till the backs of his knees hit it, then gazes deep into his eyes.

"I want to fuck you now," he says, low and asking for permission, and Jaemin can only nod, throat dry.

But he manages to stop Jeno a few frenetic minutes later, gasping, "Did you bring... your dress?"

When Jeno nods, eyes glittering, heat rushes to Jaemin's groin.

"Will you..." he lifts his eyes to Jeno's and peeks through his lashes coyly in a calculated move, hand moving down to fondle Jeno's bulge, "wear it for me later?"

Not taking his eyes off Jaemin's, Jeno moves his own hand down to cover his, holding it against his crotch as he snaps his hips forward and grinds against Jaemin's palm roughly, inhaling at the friction.

"If you're a good boy," he smiles, voice husky.

Jaemin inhales sharply and closes his eyes, until Jeno pins him to the bed with his thighs spread on either side of his body, pushes Jaemin's shirt over his elbows, and starts mapping a loveline from his nipples to his happy trail with his tongue.

He buries his hands in Jeno's hair, moaning as he writhes under him.

Jeno undresses him of his jeans, then his hand finds Jaemin's ass and caresses his cheeks. His finger presses against Jaemin's quivering hole, cool and slippery with lube.

"Do you have any experience?" he asks, voice wrecked, worried.

When Jaemin nods, his face changes and darkens, before Jaemin hastily clarifies, "Only from reading fanfiction!"

At these words, Jeno's smile broadens slowly. "I see," he says, looking like he's laughing at Jaemin inside.

Jaemin is mortified, but stunned when he manages to disarm Jeno with just his next three words.

"Hyung... be gentle.”

They make love for the first time in a luxuriously soft and large hotel bed in a four-star hotel. It happens in a place Jaemin would never have imagined losing his virginity, with a person he would never have imagined losing it to.

It's perfect.

We Go Up is playing low on the stereo system, the song they always unanimously agreed was Dream's best track of baby-making music.

After that, lying in Jeno's arms panting raggedly and spiraling down from his high, Jeno accuses Jaemin of coming during Mark's rap. Jaemin retaliates without missing a beat, accusing his thrusts of getting particularly vigorous during Renjun's part.

Neither of them mean it, but they feel relieved because it helps to hide their vulnerable feelings at exposing themselves completely to each other for the first time.

Jeno puts on his dress, as promised, doing it ever so slowly and letting Jaemin help him into it, one article of clothing at a time; and Jaemin discovers that he may have a cross-dressing kink.

But it's okay, because Jeno probably has one too.

"I hate you so much," Jaemin sniffles shakily, burying his face in Jeno's chest and inhaling his scent greedily.

Jeno's laughter rumbles beneath his ear and his heart aches so much he forgets how to breathe for a moment.

"Me too," Jeno whispers sleepily, burying his nose in Jaemin's hair and cuddling him closer.

He’s thankful he remembered to bring his oversized sunglasses the next day, hiding his red-rimmed eyes behind them as he sees Jeno off at the airport.

They stiffly hug goodbye, like the day Jaemin was leaving for his hotel in Seoul in a taxi. But this time, Jeno clings on a reluctant second longer.

As Jaemin is turning to walk away from the boarding gate, he hears his name being called.

He turns to see Jeno rushing forward dramatically, long legs eating up the ground like the male lead in a K-drama.

"I have to tell you something," Jeno pants, breaking out into a pale sweat.

Jaemin nods mutely, heart halting.

"Jaemin-ah," Jeno says softly, heart in his eyes. "I love you. I know it's only been three months since we met, and we live in different countries, and speak different languages, and that we're both boys. But you're just so loveable that I... can't help loving you."

Jeno's eyes are wide and imploring, his voice desperate and raw. The fists his hands are balled up into at his sides don't loosen until Jaemin peels off his shades coolly like a K-drama lead too and promptly bursts into tears.

"Jeno-yah… I love you too.”

The next time they meet, it's Jaemin's turn to catch Jeno unawares. He had applied for an exchange program from his university's to Jeno's the moment they started their relationship months ago, and waited so long for the approval.

But the look of unadulterated delight on Jeno's face as he breaks into a run to close the final distance between them, taking a running leap to launch into Jeno's open arms, is completely worth the wait. Jeno is worth every wait, worth every distance Jaemin has to travel to reach him.

It's been five months since he met and fell in love at first sight with Jeno, but every day still feels like the very first. Will he ever get used to it, Jaemin wonders? Will his heart ever not start hammering the moment their eyes meet; will he stop feeling nervous around Jeno and start feeling confident and relaxed?

He doesn't think so. But that's because even after all this time, Jeno still takes his breath away.

He wonders where they will be ten years later, if they will still be together. By then, the idols they had chased together, manufactured images designed by dream factories, will probably have faded, brilliant and dazzling but as impermanent and fleeting as stardust and confetti. What will remain, at the end of this long and glitzy road, are the unbreakable ties that have been formed, the relationships that had been created so innocently without knowing they would be so strong and last so long.

Jaemin looks at Jeno, firm and real and solid, steady as a rock. Jeno is Jaemin's future, his forever; but Jaemin will also never forget the precious past and the road behind him, and the five boys who led them to find each other.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much if you took the time to read till the end of this long fic! if you enjoyed, a kudos would mean a lot to me. as i mentioned this fic was written 4 yrs ago so im sorry if it sounds outdated in some ways haha. it was also meant to be humorous so the original characterisations were already slightly ooc.
> 
> i have a couple more reworks in mind if readers are interested, so check out any other works that may be posted on this account as well as the rest of my nomin fics on gotchick @ ao3 if you like my writing :)


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